


Just Smoke

by lindsaylaurie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Community: rs_games, First War with Voldemort, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lie Low At Lupin's, M/M, Marijuana, R/S Games 2017, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-10 07:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsaylaurie/pseuds/lindsaylaurie
Summary: R/S Games 2017 - Day 9 - Team RemusTwo very different impromptu trips to Amsterdam. One before and one after.Or: The boys do touristy things in Amsterdam while Sirius is mid-breakdown, Remus is very much Not in Love with Him, James is keen to get high, and Peter just wants to see some naked ladies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Remus  
>  **Title:** Just Smoke  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Suicidal Thoughts implied, mild drug use  
>  **Genres:** Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant  
>  **Word Count:** 10,000  
>  **Summary:** Two very different impromptu trips to Amsterdam. One before and one after.  
>  Or: The boys do touristy things in Amsterdam while Sirius is mid-breakdown, Remus is very much Not in Love with Him, James is keen to get high, and Peter just wants to see some naked ladies.  
>  **Notes:** Title is from the song of the same name by Mumford and Sons. I listened to that song a lot while writing this. Also huuuuge shout out to my sister for always beta-ing my fics when I ask.  <3  
>  **Prompt:** #13 - "A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image." - Joan Didion

_After…_

“I don't think this is what Dumbledore meant when he said 'lie low'.”

“Is it not?”

Remus is on a muggle bus in the middle of Europe, legs folded uncomfortably against the seat in front of him, sat next to the most wanted wizard in Britain and he honestly doesn't know how he let it get this far.

Sirius had shown up at his door two days before with a haunted look about him as he recounted Dumbledore's instructions. They had spent an awkward hour wondering what the hell they were supposed to do next before Sirius had blurted out, “Let's go to Amsterdam.”

It is not the first time they have gone on an impromptu trip to Amsterdam.

“Oi, stop making that face,” Sirius mutters, elbowing Remus gently. “It'll be fun.”

It isn't the first time Sirius has said that either.

“I just...,” Remus lets his protests fall away grudgingly. They've had this conversation countless times already. When Sirius first proposed it, when they left the flat, when they crossed the English Channel, etc. “Fine.”

Sirius grins. “There's a good lad.”

After all these years, his smile is still the same. The way his eyebrows raise mischievously, how one side of his mouth slopes slightly higher than the other. Everything is just as Remus remembers. Even if the rest of him is different, there's still that smile.

He forces his eyes away. Before they had left, Remus had gently suggested that they not discuss The Past. They both knew exactly what he meant by that. The world is complicated, _they_ are complicated. Neither of them need anything else on their plates, let alone the baggage of their previous relationship.

Even so, he can't stop thinking about it. And about the first time they went to Amsterdam. The place it all started.

The memory is stuck fast in his mind as he tries to tell himself Sirius' motivation for this trip is purely because they _all_ had such fun on the first trip and not because of some secret agenda to get back together.

He wouldn't mind if it is.

The rouge thoughts make him feel dirty. Here there are, years later, with a thousand more important things and Remus is thinking about his _feelings_.

To be fair, he'd been thinking nearly the same thing on the first bus ride they'd taken to Amsterdam.


	2. Chapter 2

_Before..._

Remus has never been good at sleeping on public transportation, but Sirius is another matter entirely. He's dead asleep, head lolling on the window of the bus, mouth hanging open slightly. Remus envies him. When he wakes, they'll be closer to their destination.

Amsterdam. It hasn't even been 24 hours since Sirius first uttered the word.

But in that time, Sirius had been able to procure the bus seats quickly and cheaply and insist it would be less hassle than the Eurostar. “ _Probably safer as well with all those dark wizards running about.”_

Sirius had said it in that casual, joking way of his, but because of the irregularity of the entire situation, Remus had held onto that statement, had tucked it into the part of his mind that is trying to make sense of this whole episode.

Exactly four days ago, Sirius had shown up at James' house as Padfoot and refused to change back. Remus and Peter were called in immediately for back up and the three of them spent the next several days insisting to James' parents that they were dog sitting for a friend. When Sirius finally did return to boy shape, he adamantly refused to answer any questions and instead presented them with this proposal:

“ _Amsterdam. Right now. But if you're going to come with me, there are two rules. 1. You cannot pay for anything. I'll do that. 2. You can't ask me any personal questions such as 'why the bloody hell were you just a dog for three days?' Don't start with that, Moony! I can see it in your eyes.”_

The ensuing discussion took place in James' bedroom in rapid whispers and frequent glancing at Sirius, who was busy looking very casual as he perused a map of Europe.

Remus was initially against it. Sirius needed some kind of help.

James argued that maybe he just needed a vacation.

Peter readily agreed.

In the end, Remus was persuaded that this was the best thing for Sirius. A chance to clear his head, a chance to, on his own terms, open up and reveal whatever had set him off in the first place.

Hopefully.

It's weighing on Remus as they sit there on the bus, side by side. James and Peter are in the seats ahead of them. They all swapped seats after the ferry ride across to the continent, which has landed Remus exactly where he doesn't want to be.

Wide awake, in the middle of the night, sat next to one Sirius Black, who manages to look handsome even as he sleeps with his mouth hanging open.

Not handsome. Normal. He looks normal.

How can he feel these small, stupid, hormonal things now when Sirius is going through a crisis? Before, he might have even enjoyed the painful awareness of his own pulse when Sirius did something charming, but now that same sensation just fills him with shame. He wishes his body would stop that, would appreciate the gravity of the situation.

The situation he himself knows nothing about.

Sirius shifts in his sleep. His eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks. Remus presses his hands into his eyes.

He only has to survive four more hours on the bus.

 

When the bus finally pulls into Sloterdijk station, Remus is exhausted.

Sirius buys him a coffee. He protests, but Sirius accuses him of breaking the first rule. For good measure, Sirius buys all of them coffee, even Peter who doesn’t like it much.

And the four of them set off.

No one says much as they board the tram that will take them into the city. At first Remus chalks it up to their bus fatigue, but even as the coffee begins to set in, everyone remains strangely somber.

Remus is wedged between Peter and James and Sirius is sat across from them. It's clear now that everyone is failing at being casual. James is pointedly not looking at Sirius, which is very hard when he’s literally the other side of his coffee cup. Peter is particularly invested in a Dutch sign stuck to the side of the cabin. And Sirius… Sirius is lounging in his seat looking aloof and handsome as he sips at his coffee.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

The coffee scalds his throat as Remus sputters. He struggles for an excuse for staring so long, but Sirius just brushes it off. “Careful, Moony, rule two.” He looks over the others and shakes his head. “Which you are all in danger of breaking.”

“I’m not doing anything!” James insists.

“I can read your thoughts, they’re all over your bloody faces.”

There’s an uncomfortable quiet until the tram stops. Sirius gets up. “Alright, this is us.”

Remus can’t tell if they really are meant to get off here or Sirius has made some snap decision. It’s maddening not knowing the plan, or where they’re staying, or if Sirius has thought that far ahead.

Apparently he has, for the tram has left them in front of a dingy looking hostel.

There’s a sign outside that is slipping off the roof and is entirely in Dutch save for the word ‘hostel.’ Sirius leads them inside with purpose, and Remus is mildly impressed that he managed to find this place. Had he heard about it from someone? Bought a guidebook?

The inside is about as innocuous as the outside. It’s a tiny room that could be someone’s sitting room, if someone’s sitting room had a large wooden counter at the far end with a surly looking man at it. Remus hangs back with James and Peter by the faded leather sofa while Sirius does the talking.

“Was this a good idea?” James mutters, shifting his rucksack from shoulder to shoulder. Much to Remus’ outrage, he’d abandoned his coffee on the tram.

“I think so,” Peter says, eyes darting to Sirius. “We just need to act more normal.”

“I can’t!” James adjusts his glasses aggressively. “There’s something wrong with him.”

Remus sighs and lets his eyes wander to Sirius, who is having the most broken conversation of English and Dutch known to man. “I know. But I agree, we've gotten this far, so we should try to be as normal as possible for his sake. He’ll come around.”

The conversation stops abruptly as Sirius returns, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he grins at the three of them and presents Remus with a key. “For you, Moony. James and Peter will just lose it.”

“Hey!” James has the decency to say this with a joking edge. “I resent that.”

“It’s true.”

Remus takes the key and carefully tucks it into his pocket. “Good choice.”

As they playfully bicker all the way to their room, Remus thinks that maybe this will work, maybe this is a good idea.

 

That good feeling lasts for maybe ten minutes.

The four of them were given a tiny room with two bunkbeds and the world’s smallest balcony. Sirius had immediately claimed one of the top bunks and James the other, leaving Remus and Peter to the bottoms. They didn’t spend much time in the room, only enough to change clothes and dump their bags.

And then they were in Amsterdam.

The tram and the bus hadn’t afforded Remus enough of a view to fully appreciate the city for what it is. The brick buildings loom high above them with their spacious windows. The streets are full of people and bicycles. Canals crisscross underneath them, teeming with boats.

It’s breathtaking.

And awkward.

The moment they step outside, no one knows what to do. Everyone looks to Sirius for some sort of guidance but he just stares back at them with his jaw set. “So, we’re going to do this the hard way, are we?”

“No, Padfoot, it’s just…,” James trails off. Remus feels the atmosphere turn sour. He wishes they were back in their room, in private at least, and not standing out on this street corner.

Sirius looks between them, seems to consider something for a moment, then crosses the street.

Everyone hurries after him, but he manages to cross just before the green man disappears, leaving the rest of them stuck behind a wall of cars. Remus’ chest gets tighter. Sirius stops at the railing overlooking the canal and strips off his jacket.

“Sirius!” Remus calls out, alarmed. “Don’t.”

But Sirius is already removing his shirt.

“Is that allowed?” Peter asks anxiously.

“Who’s gonna stop him?” James is laughing. “Wait for me, Padfoot!”

Sirius, who’s just stripped his socks, turns and grins at James before gripping the railing and leaning over.

“Sirius!” Remus is fairly certain this is _not_ allowed and in any case, it’s _cold_.

The cars stop just in time for the three of them to watch Sirius sail over the edge of the railing.

Remus bolts across the street, nearly colliding with a bicyclist, but he makes it to the other side, to Sirius’ clothes pile, and leans over.

Sirius lets out a whoop when he sees Remus and smirks up at him. His hair is hanging in damp curtains around his face as he bobs in the murky water below. “Come on!”

“Are you kidding? I bet that water’s freezing!”

Sirius, as expected, laughs. His gaze shifts to somewhere over Remus’ left shoulder and Remus looks just in time to see James hurtling past, straight into the water.

James hits the water and resurfaces immediately to shout, “Oh, fuck, it’s cold!”

Which of course makes Sirius laugh harder. James splashes him. Sirius splashes back and the two of them start wrestling in the water. Remus pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Should we go in?” Peter asks in a voice that says he definitely does not want to go in.

“I’m not.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief as James and Sirius splash each other below. Remus looks around carefully, paranoid that any moment they’re going to get told off. But they don’t. No one gives them a passing glance.

Five minutes later, Remus and Peter help a shivering James and Sirius up onto the sidewalk. They’re still laughing, and Remus feels his heart clench and he scolds himself. He can't keep doing this.

 

After James and Sirius have changed and blasted each other with drying spells, the four of them find a café and sit down for breakfast. Sirius pays, despite the halfhearted protests from everyone.

“What we need is a plan,” Sirius says midway through breakfast. His hair is still damp but his eyes are brighter than Remus has seen in days. “What does everyone want to do? One thing.”

“Red Light District,” Peter says immediately.

“Pervert,” James retorts, just as quickly.

Sirius laughs and Remus grins as Peter goes red.

“It’s historical,” Remus reminds them. “A trip to Amsterdam wouldn’t be complete without it.

“Do you really think Pete wants to go there for historical reasons?” Sirius is still giggling.

James puts an arm around Peter, who tries to squirm away, but James holds fast. “Ah, don’t worry, we all have urges, mate.”

“Shove off,” Peter mutters.

“That’s Red Light District then, for our dear, depraved friend,” Sirius says, holding up a finger. “I’ve jumped in a canal, so that’s me sorted.” He holds up another finger. “Prongs? Moony?”

Remus and James look at each other. Remus has done very little preparation for this trip. It happened so fast and he was so busy worrying about Sirius that he didn’t have a chance. But something does pop into his mind. “Oh. The Van Gogh Museum.”

Something flickers in Sirius’ expression before he rolls his eyes. “Ah, should have guessed, something cultured for Moony.”

Remus just shrugs. “He’s arguably the most famous Dutch person.”

“Next?”

James adjusts his glasses. It’s clear he has no idea what’s left. “I also jumped in the canal?” he offers. “Why does that count for _your_ activity, Padfoot?”

“Because it was my idea!” Sirius shakes his head and takes a bite of toast. He’s quiet for a moment before it dawns on him. “Oh, of _course_! We need grass!”

Remus feels he should have seen this coming, but the suggestion still makes him blanch. He had been noticing the earthy smell, heard the news that marijuana had become legal in the city recently.

James perks right up, but Peter looks nervous. Remus can’t blame him.

“Brilliant! Sorted!” James practically leaps up from the table. “Alright then, full day and all.”

And as they leave the café, Remus sees Sirius smiling again, genuinely, with his whole face, and knows everything will be fine.

At least, he hopes.


	3. Chapter 3

The Red Light district is less impressive at noon than Remus supposes it would be at night.

The street itself is nothing special. A canal runs through the center of it, splitting the two sides down the middle. It’s foot traffic only, with multiple bridges crossing over the canal. Both sides of the street are lined with dark neon signs advertising “LIVE SEX” and “SEX SHOP” and “GIRL ON GIRL”.

“Happy, Pete?” Sirius asks, ribbing Peter as they stand at the mouth of the street, gazing down the row of debauchery.

Peter blushes and nudges Sirius right back.

“It’s a bit early for the naughty stuff, though,” James says, pointing at the nearest LIVE SEX sign. “Doesn’t start until dark.”

“Neither do the prostitutes,” Sirius observes, looking towards the large, empty windows just to their left. “Ah well, suppose we can still go shopping.” He grins wickedly as he looks right at Peter.

“It’s historical!” he squeaks, looking to Remus for help.

Remus nods noncommittally. He’s too busy looking at the building Sirius had gestured to. It is old and beautiful and he wishes he would have at least bought a guidebook to learn something about the architecture here.

“Come on, Moony.” Sirius grabs him by the arm and before Remus can fully appreciate what’s happening, he’s being dragged towards the nearest sex shop.

Any other time he might have protested and insisted on waiting outside, but this time he lets Sirius pull him into the shop. Of course, he is not going to buy anything, and he doesn’t fancy standing there while James and Sirius hold up every single dirty item and laugh, but he feels like he needs to stay close, to keep an eye on Sirius.

Inside, the sex shop is bright and cheery, not the darkened shame filled shop he had been imagining. The walls are a light pink and the shelves neatly arranged with all manner of toys that Remus doesn’t want to look at too closely. He knows even any passing interest will get him labeled a pervert in the same manner Peter had been.

Almost at once, James and Sirius start giggling. Remus watches with fond annoyance as they are drawn to a particular section of bright orange vibrators.

Peter sticks close to Remus, but Remus can see his eyes wandering to a section of salacious magazines. “Go ahead and look,” Remus says, startling him. “I won’t tell James and Sirius.”

For a moment, Peter looks like might deny wanting to, but instead he grins and sneaks off, leaving Remus to supervise. It isn’t that Remus doesn’t think about these things, it’s just that his thoughts on the matter are confusing.

And there’s also the matter of Sirius. Too many variables. It’s easier for him to watch.

Until he hears James say, in a loud whisper, “Oi, Padfoot, look at the shop girl.”

Without being too obvious, Remus turns to look in the direction James is gesturing. The girl behind the counter is young and pretty, probably not that much older than them. She’s got long dark hair and a bored expression. She must not see many people at this hour.

While Remus is looking, James and Sirius approach her.

Remus tries not to listen to what they’re saying. He tunes it out as best he can, even though he’s watching, even though the shop isn’t that large.

Instead he watches the way the girl smiles at them, the way Sirius grins and leans in. The way she laughs.

This is the way it was meant to be. Sirius was always meant to meet a girl, always meant to date a girl. Remus cannot imagine otherwise.

Even though he desperately wants to.

James slides up to him. “I let Padfoot have this one,” he says. “I figure it’s only polite to give the head case first choice.”

Remus shrugs a little in response. The girl touches Sirius’ arm.

“It’s good for him, taking his mind off… whatever it is.”

Remus nods again. Sirius is flipping his hair out of his face in that way that girls swoon over. A twinge of jealousy stabs at his chest and fills him with shame. Sirius is having a good time, something he desperately needs. But watching, Remus can only think how much he longs to be that random girl who works in a sex shop.

The girl writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to Sirius. They all know enough about muggle girls to know that this is a phone number. Sirius has even called a few girls they’ve met over the summer (using the phone at Remus’ parents’ house, of course.)

When Sirius returns to them, he’s beaming. “She says she’s free tonight.”

Remus’ heart sinks pitifully.

“So if we find ourselves out of options, we’ve got this.” He holds up the piece of paper with an assortment of numbers on it.

“Brilliant!” James claps. “Alright then, where’s Pete?”

Of course, they find Peter looking at dirty pictures, because Remus is not paying attention enough to cover for him. He feels bad as James and Sirius rib him, but all he can think about are those numbers on the paper and how much he doesn’t want a random Dutch shop girl to go out with them tonight.

 

“Well, here we are.”

The four of them have stopped outside a darkened building with a blinking neon sign that says COFFEEHOUSE in all capital letters. It looks as though it could be a pub.

Sirius leads them in, James eager behind him and Peter doing his best to look keen. Remus isn't so sure. He's watched Sirius and James smoke grass a handful of times but has never partaken. It makes him uncomfortable to not be in control of his own body. So much so, that he doesn't even enjoy drinking. He gives up his bodily autonomy once a month and that's enough for him.

Inside, it smells strongly of the sharp, earthy scent of weed. Remus exhales forcefully as he scans the room for a spare table. The place definitely looks more like a pub. The lights are low, the place is packed with people smiling and laughing. But rather than drinks, everyone has a joint poking out of their mouths.

Remus spots a corner booth and slides into it. His eyes wander to the counter where Sirius is chatting animatedly with the woman behind it. He can't help but feel another rush of jealousy as the woman laughs at something Sirius' has said. Remus tries to force it away, tries instead to shift his attention to James, who looks as though he's trying to impress the woman as well.

But out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sirius turn his way. He looks right at Remus and grins and Remus quickly waves, making it seem as though he's been staring to get their attention. Sirius nods and Remus tears his gaze away.

His heart is thudding in his chest and he curses himself. Remus cannot think about him like this now.

“Got you something, Moony,” Sirius says, tossing a shrink wrapped packet of what appears to be cake in Remus' direction. At least four other packets of cake hit the table after it.

Sirius slides in across from him with Peter. James slots in next to Remus, who frowns at the cake as he brings it up to his eyes.

“Space cake?”

“Pete's idea,” James supplies. He too has a packet of cake that he's fumbling with. “I reckon he remembers the last time he tried to smoke.”

“Hey! Not my fault I have bad lungs,” Peter mutters as he rips the package open with his teeth.

“So...” Remus turns the package over and his suspicions are confirmed with the giant marijuana leaf printed on it. “We'll get high off of this.”

“That's the idea.” Sirius has unwrapped his cake and he tips the pastry towards Remus. “Cheers.”

Remus watches him as Sirius and James practically inhale theirs. Peter is a little less enthusiastic, but he apparently enjoys the taste after the first bite, for his is gone just as quickly.

And then there's Remus. He delicately opens the package, watching his friends chat, looking for any sign that they are high now. Maybe it won't be so bad. He's seen Sirius and James high. They are much more agreeable than when they are drunk.

“Come on, Moony,” James says, elbowing him. “It's nice. Even Peter ate it.”

Peter nods, eyeing the spare cake in the middle of the table. “How many are we meant to eat?”

Sirius shrugs. “I don't feel anything with just one. Go ahead and have another if you'd like.”

Remus sucks on his lip. “One is alright then?”

Sirius grins. “Oh yeah, I reckon you'll be fine with one.”

Damn that smile. Remus swallows. He pinches off a piece of cake and brings it to his lips.

It tastes like a vanilla sponge with a slight aftertaste of the strong skunk smell of weed. It's not unpleasant and the lack of an immediate reaction encourages him to finish the whole thing.

Maybe this is what he needs, what Sirius needs. Maybe, calmed by the weed, they'll talk out whatever problem Sirius has and have an early night. Maybe they won’t end up out late with the shop girl.

When all is said and done, they’ve all had one piece of cake and James, Peter, and Sirius have split the last packet. Remus declined, suspicious of the lack of effects. He thinks it might kick in later. He hopes it won’t.

“Alright then.” They’re outside, on the busy street. It’s late afternoon and people are out in full force. Sirius has taken the lead again. “Van Gogh museum it is.”

“Is this going to be very depressing?” James asks as they follow Sirius down the street. He’s clutching a map they picked up at the bus station. “Didn’t this bloke off himself?”

“Yes,” Remus says carefully, “But he painted a good number of paintings before then. He was very prolific for dying in his thirties.”

“Sounds like a boring life,” Peter chimes in. “You paint and paint and paint and then one day you end it all.”

Sirius looks over his shoulder at them. “They didn’t even think he was that good, right? He couldn’t sell his paintings for shit.”

“Damn, Moony, this museum is sounding better and better,” James says, shaking his head.

Remus rolls his eyes. “You’ll like it when you get there. And if you don’t, you can wait outside.”

“We’re just teasing.” Sirius falls back and slings an arm around Remus. All of his nerve endings come alive at once. “I’m sure we’ll all be inspired or some shit. Right, lads?”

“Not as inspired as Peter was in that sex shop,” James says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey!”


	4. Chapter 4

When they get to the museum, Sirius pays. Remus can’t help but wonder where he’s gotten all this money. Sure, his family is rich, but Remus is fairly sure they do not give him an unlimited allowance. It’s as if he’s trying to get rid of the money.

Inside, the museum is beautiful. From the moment they step inside, Remus feels at ease surrounded by the paintings. The first gallery is an open space with a large, winding staircase leading to the other galleries.

“I’m going to actually read the descriptions,” Remus tells his friends. “So feel free to leave me behind.”

Sirius snorts. “We won’t get too far ahead.”

“Speak for yourself.” James is already looking up the staircase. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Peter is oddly quiet. He has a far off look in his eyes. Remus waves a hand in his face.

“Pete? You alright?”

He blinks and takes a quick step back. “Fine! It’s just! I think the paintings are moving.”

Remus squints at him, then looks to the other two. James shrugs and Sirius is struggling to conceal a grin.

“I think the space cake is catching up to you, mate.” Sirius claps Peter on the shoulder and Peter winces more dramatically than appropriate.

The annoyance must show on Remus’ face, for James quickly says, “I’ll watch him. Go look at your bloody paintings.”

“Oh… thanks.” Remus is grateful. He needs a moment to himself, a moment to collect his thoughts and rearrange them.

By the time they finish the first floor, Peter is well and truly high. James is getting there, and even Sirius seems off. Well, more off than he has been as of late.

Remus is fine. He tells himself that over and over as he dutifully examines every painting. He ignores the way the paint seems to swirl on the canvas. A testament to the artistry, he’s sure. He’s not high and he does not have feelings for Sirius right now. He knows these two things to be true.

 

“Where's Sirius?”

James' lazy statement snaps Remus to attention. He blinks rapidly as his mind swims in and out of focus. He's sitting on a bench in front of a wall of paintings with Peter to his left and James to his right. Peter has his head pressed against his knees and he's muttering something about cats.

James, on the other hand, is turning his head around the room slowly. “Padfoot?”

A cold feeling settles into Remus' chest. They've lost him. Merlin, he needs to focus! He's not even high. Just tired. Focus and control. That’s what he needs. He tries to remember what floor they’re on. How did they even end up on this bench?

It’s a big museum. They were tired. They needed a break.

“I'll find him,” Remus says, getting to his feet quickly. The room spins a little and he squeezes his eyes shut. This is fine. He's fine. “Please... stay here. Don't move.”

James purses his lips. “But--”

“And make sure Peter stays put too. Please.”

Remus must look serious enough to imprint this message on James, for James nods solemnly and salutes. “Done.”

There are four floors in the Van Gogh museum. Remus thinks they're on the second floor. No, he knows they are on the second floor. He is Not High.

That means there is only one floor left. Unless he’s gone down? No, up. Up makes sense.

Remus rushes through to the next few rooms and glances around. It's the middle of the week so there aren't very many people there. There are a few artists drawing quietly in their sketchpads. None of them are Sirius. Upstairs, definitely.

The stairs are a bit of a challenge, being uneven and all. Remus thinks that they shouldn't be in a building this new.

When he enters the gallery containing Sirius, time seems to slow.

There he is, a pillar of unusual rigidity silhouetted in front of a fluid, blue-green painting of jumbled forms and strokes. He’s so sharp in contrast that Remus squints to make sure he’s really there and not a clever art installation.

But even though he doesn’t move when Remus gets closer, even though the cut of his shoulders seems to flow with the curves of blue and green, Remus knows it’s him.

Remus almost says something, almost reaches out to touch Sirius, but he's stopped by a choked sob.

The illusion is shattered. Sirius' shoulders are shaking, he's tense, his fists are clenched. He's crying.

Remus has seen him cry before. There's little privacy in the dormitories and he's lived with Sirius for five years. But seeing him cry here, in public, in a gallery, makes him recoil. He inhales sharply and steps back. Apparently he's too loud, for Sirius turns, startled.

Any apology Remus had been attempting to spit out is lost on its way to his mouth.

Everything shifts into hyper focus. Sirius' eyes are red. Tears cling to his eyelashes. His face is flushed and his mouth is twisted into a grimace. His hair has fallen into face.

Everything about him is beautiful.

“We were looking for you,” Remus says, the words tumbling from his mouth. He wants to say something else, anything else, ask if Sirius is okay, ask if he needs time alone, ask a whole number of things but his lungs are all twisted in his chest and he can't recall any other words he knows.

“Sorry.” Sirius' voice is rough. He drags his sleeve across his eyes and the motion seems so close that Remus swears he hears the fabric brushing his skin.

A thousand emotions are erupting in Remus' chest and he can't untangle them.

“It's okay.” Remus tries very hard to find his voice. “Is... Are you alright?”

There it is. He latches onto that thread, to the responsible and caring part of him that has inexplicably fled when he needs it most.

Sirius swallows and jerks a thumb at the painting over his shoulder. Remus blinks.

“It's...” But Sirius can't get it out. He turns back to the painting, standing closer than he really ought to. Remus wonders if being high has given Sirius a new appreciation for the arts.

There's a jumble of blues and green and browns on the canvas. Remus squints, trying to see what Sirius sees, trying to see the beauty in the chaos. But he can't see anything worth that reaction. It has to be something else. His eyes slide over to Sirius, who's almost got his nose pressed to the painting by now.

There are fresh tears in his eyes.

Remus' stomach twists painfully. Seeing Sirius crying over a painting in the middle of a public gallery is doing something to him, but he has no idea what. It's endearing, it's so unlike him, it's...

Sirius takes a step back from the painting to stand next to Remus. He scrubs at his eyes again and Remus fumbles in his pocket for a handkerchief. He hands it to Sirius wordlessly.

Without Sirius obscuring it, the painting does have a sort of charm. He can see now that it's trees, all twisted and confusing. Something stirs dimly in him, but he hasn't been doing well with sorting his emotions tonight.

“Okay. Let's go,” Sirius says after a moment.

When Remus looks to him, his eyes are wet and red and he looks so vulnerable. Remus wants to do more. He wants to offer Sirius some kind of comfort, even an awkward pat on the shoulder, but he can't work out how to do it.

He will admit now, that he is indeed high.

Remus nods and leads Sirius back down the stairs, back to the gallery where James and Peter are still, thankfully, waiting. It's also a blessing that the gallery is next to the stairs, for Remus nearly turns the wrong way to find them again.

“Alright, Padfoot?” James asks, squinting up at Sirius. For some reason, his glasses are perched on his head rather than the bridge of his nose.

“Didn't I say you weren't supposed to ask me that?” Sirius retorts. He's back to normal now. Well, as normal as he can be. “But, yeah, alright, let's go. Moony's tired of babysitting you lot.”

Even though it’s normal for Remus to take charge, he can’t help but feel a surge of pride that Sirius has recognized his efforts, no matter how jokingly.

 

Which is why Remus doesn’t want to admit that he’s lost.

It’s been twenty minutes since they left the Van Gogh museum. They should have arrived at the hostel five minutes ago. But here they are, wandering the streets of Amsterdam while Remus clutches at the crumpled paper map they’ve been dragging around the city.

“I’m tired,” Peter whines, tugging at Remus’ sleeve like a child. “How much further?”

“Um.” Remus stops. They’re at an intersection. The night is balmy around them and the crowds on the streets are beginning to thin out. He looks at the street sign. The word has far too many consonants. The map isn’t much help either. All the streets are some variation of ‘levienstistraat’.

“We’re almost there,” Remus lies.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” James insists.

“Let me see the map.” Sirius is at his shoulder, grabbing for the map. Remus pulls it out of reach.

“I know where we’re going.”

Another time he might have let Sirius see the map. He probably would have admitted longer ago that he had no clue where he was going, but now he feels like his pride is at stake. Everything is spiraling out of control and this one thing he was supposed to be able to control, he can’t because his head is so damn _spinny._ He shouldn’t have eaten the space cake. He shouldn’t have let Sirius go off alone. He is supposed to be the responsible one. He—

Sirius rips the map from his hands and he’s too slow to stop him.

James and Peter crowd around the map as Remus just stands there, dumbfounded. He’s naked, exposed, just standing there, gaping, having no idea where they are.

“Shit,” James says. “We’re going to wrong way.”

Remus’ heart sinks.

“Are you sure?” Peter’s nose is pressed so close to the map that he’s gone cross-eyed.

“Yeah.” Sirius traces his finger along the map. “We need to turn around.”

The anxiety squeezes at Remus’ chest. He winces when everyone turns to him and he looks away.

“I don’t know why you trusted me,” he bites, feeling small and uneasy. “I’m stoned to hell.”

At that, Sirius laughs. It’s not a normal laugh, it’s a raucous, howling laugh that sets James and Peter off. Remus goes scarlet, but before he can say anything else, Sirius is clapping him on the back.

“Too funny, mate,” Sirius chokes. “Come on, let’s—“

“Oh my god!”

Everyone startles as they turn to Peter, who’s pointing with wide eyes at something in the distance. Remus looks around wildly, expecting to see some dark wizard or even dementor appear from the shadows.

“A fucking windmill!”

And there it is. In the dark, it’s a big shadowy silhouette peeking out behind a building, just barely visible in the streetlights.

That sets Sirius off again. He’s laughing so hard that tears are leaking out of his eyes.

“We need to go over there!” James grabs Peter by the wrist. “Take us there!”

One moment Peter and James are there, the next they’re gone. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d say they disapparated. But they haven’t. They’ve run off, leaving Remus standing on the street corner with Sirius, who is still laughing his ass off.

“We need to follow them.” Remus’ urgency does little to sober up Sirius. If anything, it sets him off further. “Dammit, Padfoot, focus!”

“Let them see the fucking windmill,” Sirius wheezes. “Or what, did you want to see it too?”

Remus is still trying to formulate a reply when Sirius grabs him by the arm. “Hey. Calm down. I don’t care that you got us lost. I’m having a great time.”

It’s so sincere, so unlike the hysterical Sirius five seconds ago, hell, unlike the Sirius he’s used to. Remus suspects the weed.

“The best time.”

His hand gets tighter around Remus’ arm and Remus forgets to breathe.

“Good.” Remus can’t call up any other words. His brain is incapable of stringing together a sentence, let alone transmitting that sentence to his mouth.

Sirius smiles at him. In that smile, Remus sees everything. He sees the thing that’s bothering Sirius, the hurt, the sadness, but he also sees the humor, the mischief, the unwavering loyalty.

And he knows he loves him then.

It must radiate through him, must be a huge blinking neon sign, because Sirius grabs his other arm and leans in close. His breath smells like weed.

Their lips brush tentatively. Remus inhales sharply. Sirius hesitates for a fraction of a second before pressing in more firmly.

Remus’ already clouded mind blips off for the ten seconds they kiss.

“I just…. I wanted to… I wanted to at least once before…,” Sirius breathes, looking guilty and nervous.

And Remus stands there, staring at Sirius, lips tingling as he tries to process. “You…. You put the windmill there to get rid of them.”

Sirius snorts. His grip on Remus’ arms gets tighter as he tips his head forward onto Remus’ shoulder and lets out a strangled laugh. “Yeah… Yeah of course I did, you nutter.”

And then Remus is laughing too, because he’s nervous and wound up and he just kissed Sirius Black on Dumbledorestraat (probably) and he’s high and he feels like he’ll never come down.

“You missed it,” James says solemnly.

Remus flinches. He and Sirius are still clinging to one another, laughing like hyenas and James and Peter are back.

“It was a fucking windmill,” Peter agrees.

“It sure was.”

Sirius recovers first. Remus still feels shaky and unstable, even more so when Sirius extracts himself. “Did you get a picture?”

Peter holds up his camera and nods.

“Well done.” Sirius looks up at the sky, at the waxing moon, and nods to himself. “Alright then, let’s head back.”

 

James takes the lead in navigating. Sirius and Peter chime in occasionally, but Remus stays out of it. He’s still unsettled, off balance. There’s a weight in his chest and it doesn’t help that Peter has become obsessed with cats following them.

“Look, he’s still there!” Peter hisses right in Remus’ ear. Remus shudders and shies away while Peter points frantically at something a few feet behind them.

There’s an enormously fluffy cat sniffing around the street behind them. It looks casual and benign enough.

“He’s been following for the last ten minutes,” Peter insists. “He knows something.”

What he knows, Remus doesn’t know, but he vaguely remembers seeing that cat before. Maybe. “Maybe it’s…” He swallows. “Maybe it’s an Animagus.”

Peter gasps in horror loud enough for Sirius and James to turn around.

“It was just a suggestion!” Remus holds up his hands placatingly. “It could just be a normal cat.”

“What’s this?” Sirius stops walking and James nearly runs into him. “That cat?”

The offending animal has stopped a few paces back and is now licking itself, totally oblivious to the four sets of eyes on it.

Peter nods fervently. “It’s following us. It’s an Animagus.”

“Merlin. It’s my mum!” James moans. “I knew it! She’s here! Shit! She’s going to kill me!”

“Your mum is not an Animagus,” Remus says, trying to at least control this situation, but he can feel this slipping from his grasp too.

“How do you know? No one knows we are! She could be a secret one too!” James is clawing at his face now, looking distraught. “It’s legal here, Mum!” he shouts at the cat, startling it. “I’m not doing anything wrong! And this is definitely Remus' house!”

“James, you’re making a scene,” Remus hisses. But when he looks around, they are totally alone on this street save for cars driving by and the odd bicycle.

“Come on, let’s go,” Sirius says, grabbing James by the arm. “We can lose her. She can’t risk changing back here.”

“She’s not James' mum!”

“I dunno,” Peter says in a loud whisper. “Her hair’s that color.”

The cat starts to walk away from them, down the other end of the street. For a moment, they all watch it leave.

“She’s gone to tell Dumbledore,” Peter whimpers. “He’s going to chuck us out.”

“Why would he... nevermind.” Remus presses his hands to his eyes. He’s suddenly exhausted and he just wants to go back to the hostel.

He feels someone’s hand on his back and tenses. He knows it’s Sirius.

“Alright, Moony?”

His throat’s gone dry. He manages a nod. “Can we please just go back?”

Sirius' voice is warm and sincere as he says, “We’re nearly there.”

 

It turns out they were nearly there. It takes another five minutes of stumbling and whispering about cats before they’re at their room in the hostel.

While the others float in, dazed, Remus has enough wits about him to claim the bathroom first. When he’s finished, he breezes right past his friends and flings himself into bed. He’s so glad he got stuck with a bottom bunk. He can’t imagine trying to haul himself up the ladder at this point. His whole body feels like lead and he can’t keep his eyes open for even a second longer.

He falls asleep the moment he hits the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Remus could have very easily slept the entire night and probably a good portion of the next day, he’s awoken by a thud and a stream of soft curses.

He jolts up, nearly hitting his head on the bunk above him, and peels back his curtain just in time to see Sirius scrambling to his feet, illuminated by the moon filtering through the window.

“Sirius?” he whispers, keeping his voice low even though he thinks Peter and James can’t still be asleep after that noise. “Are you okay?”

Sirius startles. He looks disorientated for a moment before leaning over to peer into the bottom bunk. “Merlin, Moony, you scared me,” he mutters, rubbing at his shoulder. It’s only now that Remus realizes that Sirius is completely and totally naked.

It isn’t as though he hasn’t seen Sirius naked before, but the sight of him now takes him aback. He keeps his eyes focused squarely on Sirius’ face, even as his cheeks heat up against his own will.

“Sorry,” Remus mutters. He swallows as he feels his heart speed up. Now he’s awake. It's exactly how he doesn't want to feel in the middle of the night. “You scared _me.”_

There's a low, exaggerated moan from the other bunk and Remus freezes, shifting his attention to just behind Sirius. But there's no movement. James and Peter are still dead asleep.

Sirius glances behind him, towards the other bunk, and Remus is left with nothing to focus on but the curve of his neck, the dip of his collarbone.

Shit.

He remembers the gallery. He remembers seeing Sirius cry. He remembers the street corner. Sirius kissed him. It wasn't a delusion, that he's fairly certain of. He can still feel the ghost of it on his lips. It was real and, oh Merlin,... It was real.

“Eyes front, Moony.”

Remus winces. His eyes snap up to Sirius' bemused expression. His face goes totally scarlet. “I wasn't--”

Sirius presses his finger to his own lips. “Not so loud.” He grins and settles back onto his heels. He is more comfortable naked than anyone has a right to be. “Let's go outside so we don't wake them.”

Remus' heart picks up again. “As long as you put on some trousers.”

“Prude.”

 

A few minutes later and they're standing on the tiny balcony just outside their room. There's barely enough room for the two of them to stand shoulder to shoulder. It's not late so much as early. If Remus has to guess by the reddening sky, he would say it’s nearly five in the morning. Well, five in the morning by English standards. Amsterdam is currently an hour off and Remus isn't awake enough to remember whether it’s an hour forward or backward.

“I wish we had more time,” Sirius says after a moment of just staring out into the city.

Remus nods carefully. He's simultaneously glad and disappointed that Sirius hasn't launched right into the topic at the forefront of his mind. “We can always come back.”

Sirius doesn't say anything. He stares out on the city and Remus tries very hard not to stare at him. “What if we stayed another night?”

“Well...” It's tempting. They've barely scratched the surface. They haven't been to the Anne Frank house yet. “If we don't go the muggle way back, maybe. But we've got school soon.”

A ghost of a smile flits onto Sirius' face. “Always thinking about school.”

“Am not.”

Sirius bumps against his shoulder lightly.

“Let's just come back next summer,” Remus says, thinking better of it. “We'll have more time.”

The quiet settles in. “What if we're not here next summer?”

The statement puzzles Remus. He thinks he's still a bit slow from the weed. When it finally dawns on him, he frowns. “Is that what's bothering you? All this Death Eater stuff?”

“Rule two,” Sirius says, and he's not joking.

They fall into a more awkward silence. Remus thinks he's hit on something though. He wants to tell Sirius it's okay, wants to say that all of this shit with Death Eaters will blow over soon, but he also doesn't want to upset him further.

“Anyway,” Sirius says after the silence has run on for longer than comfortable. “Staying would be a stupid idea, you're right. All good things must end.” He shifts his eyes to the brightening sky. “All good people too.”

Something twists in Remus' chest. He desperately wants to know what's set Sirius off like this. Had someone in his family died? Someone he actually liked?

Regulus?

Remus tries not to let his imagination run wild. He can't just make assumptions like that.

“We should probably get some sleep. I'm sure you've packed our itinerary for tomorrow.” Sirius is grinning with that easy way of his, but Remus can see something more behind it, something sad.

Sirius starts to turn but Remus reaches out and takes his arm. “That's it?” he blurts out before he can think of a better segue.

Sirius purses his lips. “What?”

He knows very well 'what'.

“On the street corner. In the gallery. You can't... you,” Remus curses his floundering tongue. “You can't leave it like that.”

There it is. His heart is hammering. It's become too warm in the night.

Everything about Sirius changes. He becomes stiffer, more guarded, and Remus knows he's made a mistake. “Leave it like what? Gallery: I was stoned off my tits and got emotional over some paintings. Street corner: I was stoned off my tits and you were there. I already apologized for the second one, if you recall.”

With every second, Remus is feeling smaller and stupider. His rational brain never would have pressed Sirius like this. His rational brain would have let this stew forever. He vows then and there to never take a mind-altering substance again. He hates it. He hates that things seem right when they're not. He hates how it makes him see things that aren't there.

“Right.” Remus can still feel his heart stuttering away. “I... Right.”

He turns back to the room and goes inside. He can hear Sirius say his name, but he blocks it out as he throws himself into his bunk. He was stupid to read into anything. He's made a bigger deal of those two incidents than he needs to. He's making a bigger deal of Sirius' breakdown than he needs to. Maybe everything is as Sirius says. Maybe he just needed a break. First a break from being human, then a break from responsibility. Just a reprieve until school starts again.

But it doesn't sit right with Remus to leave it like that.

 

No matter how normal Remus tries to be the next day, it isn’t enough.

He and Sirius don’t speak to each other much and it kills him. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have kept his mouth shut and feelings tamped down.

They go to the zoo, despite James insisting that it’s probably just like the zoo in London. He warms up to it quickly though and it isn’t long before James is absolutely giddy at seeing a giraffe.

It also isn’t long before Sirius pulls him aside.

They’re heading for the lions when Sirius touches him arm and motions for him to stop. Remus does, but everything in him shifts to high alert.

“Last night,” Sirius says, cutting right to the heart of it.

Remus looks past him, to where Peter and James are oohing and ahing over a lion. He doesn't want to do this here, not when the two of them could turn around at any moment.

Sirius glances over his shoulder and waves a hand dismissively. “I told James we needed to talk. They're fine.”

Remus wonders how that exchange went. Did James ask questions?

“I was an ass. That's all I wanted to say.” Sirius looks mildly uncomfortable.

Remus' mouth sticks to the roof of his mouth. He shrugs a little. “You're obviously going through... something. I don't blame you.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, don't make excuses for me. I just... I don't want to have regrets, you know? Not anymore.”

There's a moment of silence where Remus tries to figure out what's wrong with what he knows so far, but there's only so long he can stare at Sirius, searching his face for clues, before he has to say something. “Yeah... I know.” Remus clears his throat. “Sorry, I, uh, made a big deal out of it.”

It's Sirius' turn to shrug. “Nah, don't worry, you were fine.”

A look passes between them. There's something in there Remus can't place. Something he can't name, or doesn't want to name, something hopeful and sad and longing and he thinks about it the entire bus ride home.

 

A week goes by. School starts. The truth comes out.

Sirius has been disinherited.

There's a lot of coordinating. A lot of talking, a lot of shrug offs from Sirius. A lot of worrying and checking in and learning to be subtle.

There are a lot of Looks.

In the end, when the big Talk happens, it's far less dramatic than any talk they had in Amsterdam. Sirius is forward, he's always forward. He tells Remus he wants to kiss him again. He tells Remus he wants to kiss him many times over and he hopes Remus is willing.

Remus is willing.

They fall into it seamlessly. It flows naturally, like their friendship. And like their friendship, it fizzles out towards the end of the war until coming to a halt altogether.

But Remus still thinks about it. And he's ashamed to admit it, but he's still thinking about it standing in the Van Gogh museum, 15 years later.

“You really liked this one last time we were here,” Remus says casually.

They’re standing in front of the painting Sirius cried over all those years ago. He feels strange standing here with the same man now, especially when they are on such uncertain terms.

“Yeah.” Sirius is quiet and non-committal.

Remus looks at the title. Tree Roots. That’s certainly what it looks like. His eyes wander to the description.

_Tree Roots, 1890_

_This painting seems at first sight to consist of a jumble of bright colours and fanciful abstract forms. Only after that do you realise that it shows a slope with tree trunks and roots. These are trees used for timber, growing in a marl quarry. Such quarries could be found around Auvers (FR). The work was not entirely completed. That explains its unfinished appearance. It is probably Van Gogh's very last painting. Andries Bonger, the brother-in-law of Vincent's brother Theo, described it in a letter: 'The morning before his death, he had painted a sous-bois [forest scene], full of sun and life.'_

A chill goes through Remus. His last painting.

Everything clicks into place. He feels stupid for not seeing it before, for not seeing it in the years after, in retrospect.

The sudden trip, getting rid of his money, evasiveness.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sirius says from somewhere behind him. He could have been thousands of miles away for all Remus knew.

“Is it true?” Remus asks. His chest feels tight. His words are measured.

“Mm. A little.”

Remus turns to face him now. The gallery is empty as it was before.

Sirius looks tired, but he always looks tired nowadays. There are bags under his eyes and his hair has lost the sheen it once had. He’s paler than he’s ever been.

“I didn’t…. I should have…” Remus clenches his fists. He feels so raw, as he always does with Sirius now. It's maddening that he can’t look at him now. He wants it to stop. He wants to be able to look at this man and not see everything that ever went wrong in his life. But it hurts. Everything, the way he holds himself, the ghost of the old Sirius in his eyes, the set of his jaw.

“You were a kid.” Sirius' tone is hard to place. Remus doesn't want to look at him for more clues. “I was too. It was stupid, I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus _can't_ look at him.

“Moony.”

The word stabs him in the chest. He hasn't been called that in years.

“Sorry,” Remus forces out. He's being selfish, trapped in his own head, while Sirius stands by. When he looks up, Sirius is closer than he realized. Everything in him wants to hold Sirius, wants to kiss him in that gallery and let everything return to how it was, just for a moment, but he knows it's irresponsible. Inappropriate even. The last thing Sirius needs are his feelings.

“I wouldn't really have done it,” Sirius says plainly. “I mean, you know me. I feel like doing something and I do it. Planning isn't really my style.” He exhales and scrubs the back of his neck. “Everything just felt so shitty, my family, the war getting closer, my brother getting ready to fucking join in. I needed it to stop. This was what I needed.” He gestures to the gallery around them, the white room covered in paintings that Remus has nearly forgotten about. “I needed a reminder that there was still good out there.”

There's a long silence. Remus wants to say something, but it looks like Sirius still wants to speak. So he's quiet, watching in the silence, trying to measure his breaths, trying to calm his nerves.

“I thought about Amsterdam a lot in there, when I needed a reminder.”

Remus clenches his jaw. Over the years he's actively tried _not_ to think about Amsterdam, about the good times he shared with Sirius Black, the one person who he'd thought had ruined his life.

“I thought about you a lot, too.”

Remus wishes he hadn't been looking at Sirius at that moment. His tone is cautious and testing but his eyes... his eyes are sincere and soft. Remus wants to melt through the floor, he wants to be anywhere but that gallery, away from those eyes.

“We said we weren't going to do this,” Remus says quietly, shifting his gaze to the floor. “I don't think... I think it would be easier if we didn't.”

But he wants to. His whole body aches for it.

“Easier, maybe,” Sirius says, offhandedly, “But, honestly, Remus, having rules for a holiday is shit.”

The emotion is boiling too close to the surface and Remus lets out a surprised laugh. He takes several deep breaths and presses his palms into his eyes. “Of course, when you want to have rules, we have rules, but when I want to have rules...”

Sirius laughs too and it has a nervous edge to it.

There's a hand on Remus' shoulder, and he starts trembling. He pulls his hands away from his face and looks into Sirius' eyes. He thinks about the past, about the first time they were stood here in this gallery. He thinks about how broken Sirius had been, how broken he still is. He still thinks they shouldn't. He thinks it’s too much, too complicated to get into now when the world is falling apart.

“Stop it.” Sirius is close now. His breath tickles Remus' face.

“Okay,” Remus finds himself saying as he leans forward. “Okay.”

When they kiss, Remus cries. Sirius does too, and Remus is very glad the gallery is empty. They stand there, for a long time, holding each other in front of Van Gogh's last painting.


End file.
